


Honey and Mint

by BleedingInk



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Beekeeper!Castiel, F/M, Fluff, Human AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-03 12:09:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2850380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleedingInk/pseuds/BleedingInk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meg leads a very busy life in the city, so she doesn't really have time to deal with small things as a beehive in the farmhouse her brother left her after his death. Luckily, the kind beekeper who makes the sweetest tea is there to lend her a hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Storm

The phone had been ringing nonstop all day long.

That wouldn’t have been so bad if it had been just the one phone and Meg wouldn’t have the only one in charge of picking them up. But Cecily, the other secretary at the firm where they worked, had called in sick. Meg knew there was a big chance that meant Cecily had got herself a new boyfriend and was now fucking him into oblivion, but she didn’t care. At some point in her life, she was going to need a favor and Cecily wouldn’t be able to say no.

As of today, Meg had to run up and down the building, handing out files, classifying cases in order of importance and offering coffee to the clients waiting. She’d had to pick up the three phones over the desks: Cecily, hers and the boss’, because Michael was just too busy planning a weekend escapade with his mistress to be bothered to do his job.

The only phone she ignored all day was her own. The screen had lit up several times with Lilith’s number. Meg wasn’t sure why her ex-sister-in-law wanted to talk to her so desperately, but she was sure it could wait until she was home and had at least taken off her shoes.

At the end of the day, Meg’s feet were sore, her head was aching and she was counting the seconds until she could punch the clock and get the hell out. She was already heading for the elevator, hoping nobody would catch her in the way with another demand when Benny Lafitte caught up with her.

“Hey, Meg,” the junior associate greeted her. “Hey, sugar. You’re on your way out? I was thinking maybe we could for a drink…”

“The answer was no when you were trying to get a rebound one-night stand after you broke up with your fiancée,” Meg replied coldly. “And the answer is still no now you’re still hung up on her.”

Benny winced at Meg’s asseveration. “It doesn’t have to be a date, you know?” he commented, following her down the hall. “I’m just trying to be your friend here.”

“That’s cute,” Meg huffed, pushing the button several times, as if that would make the stupid elevator arrive faster. “Listen, Benny, I like you. But please don’t try to pull that Nice Guy crap on me.”

“I’m not trying to pull anything…” Benny protested.

“Sorry,” Meg said rising her ringing phone at him. “Have to take this.”

Actually, it was the call Meg had been avoiding all day, but she much preferred to talk to the woman who’d broken her brother’s heart and walked away with every penny he owned than with a guy who couldn’t just admit he wanted to sleep with her once and never call her again.

“Lilith, hi,” she said, faking her kindest tone. “Sorry I couldn’t pick up earlier, I was busy… what?”

All the colors and snarkiness drained from Meg’s face at the same time. The phone slipped from her fingers and hit the floor with a clatter. Her knees trembled and Benny had to hold her by the arm so she wouldn’t suffer the same fate.

“Meg?” he asked. “Are you okay?”

Meg looked up. The room was spinning. She didn’t understand. How could this be? A second ago, this had been a perfectly humdrum day.

“Tom is dead,” she muttered. “My brother is dead.”

She saw Benny’s eyes widening and heard his condolences, but that wasn’t going to change the fact that her world had just ended.

 

* * *

 

“No, no, no,” Meg whispered. “No, please, don’t…”

The car stopped abruptly and a thin column of smoke ascended from the hood. Meg hit her head against the wheel, defeated. Ever since Lilith’s call, nothing had seemed to go right. Organizing and paying for the funeral had been a supreme pain in the ass, not to mention all the time she’d had to spend on the phone, letting people know what’d happened.

“Yes, it was very sudden,” she’d repeated a thousand of times. “No, I didn’t know he was sick. He didn’t tell anybody. I’m… fine.”

That was a lie, of course. She was nowhere near the vicinity of fine, but she had been holding up okay until the moment Tom’s layer called to let her know that her brother had specifically asked for his remains to be cremated and his ashes scattered over at his farmhouse. Also, the property was now hers.

Meg’d had a moment of crisis. What the hell had Tom been thinking, leaving the stupid farmhouse to her? She’d always hated the place, because of all the things it represented: Tom and Lilith’s divorce, his stupid spiritual journey that had ended with him living in the middle of nowhere and calling less and less as time went by. And now this. It’d almost seemed like a prank, the exact kind of thing Tom would do.

She’d cried over the kitchen counter for a couple of hours before gritting her teeth and calling the mortuary to change the details, which had cost her another additional fee.

In any case, there she was now, with Tom’s urn in the passenger seat and a broken car in the middle of a dirt road. To top it all off, she wasn’t even sure if she was going where she was supposed to. Tom would’ve told her she should’ve just swallowed her stupid pride and asked for directions in the last gas station she’d passed. Now he would’ve been quietly snickering at her.

“Shut up,” Meg snapped at the urn.

She got off the car and opened the hood, only to be attacked by angry puffs of black smoke. Meg coughed loudly, and finally admitted she was way out of her depth. She raised her head. She’d been driving for hours without seeing anything resembling a house, and the road ahead appeared to be just as desolated. But the sun was sinking, and she was not going to spend the night sleeping in a broken car. She was pretty sure she’d seen a couple of horror films that started just like that.

She took two steps away from the car and then went back. She unbuckled the urn and continued her way with it safely tucked under her arm. She doubted very much somebody would want to steal that, but she wasn’t about to risk it. Tom would come back to haunt her just to make fun of her for losing his ashes like that.

After fifteen minutes of walking, she reached a small house with a gabled roof and a garden with flowers in full bloom. The combinations of soft scent and the buzzing of several bees working among the plants make Meg stop for a second to appreciate it. Now, you never got the chance to smell anything like that in the city.

She crossed the gate and strode towards the door. She half expected the place to be owned by an elderly woman with graying hair and a kind smile, a sort of Little Red Riding Hood’s grandma prototype. Instead, a tall man with dark hair and a blue sweater opened the door and stood behind the mosquito net, staring at her with a slight frown.

“Yes?” he asked.

Meg had to blink and remind herself why he was there. The man’s bright blue eyes had completely unbalanced her there for a second.

“Hi, I was wondering if you could help me,” she said, showing him her biggest smirk. “My car broke down and I have no idea where I am, and…”

She went quiet for a second. The guy didn’t give the potential serial killer vibe, but one could never be too careful.

“I’m sorry, I wouldn’t be bothering you if my boyfriend would’ve come with me,” she added, with a little laugh. “He’s this super tall guy who knows a lot about cars and he tried to instruct me how to fix it on the phone, but I am really…”

The man opened the door.

“Come on in,” he invited her. “I’ll call my sister Hannah. Her wife can tow your car to her workshop and fix it in the morning.”

Meg stepped into a homely living room. The window was open and a pot with a lavender plant rested on the ledge. The soft couch was a welcome relief to her tired bones after so many hours behind the wheel and she entertained herself staring at the several pictures that adorned the walls while she heard the muffled words coming from another room.

“Kim will be here in ten minutes,” he announced. His voice was rough and deep. “Do you want something to drink in the meantime? I have coffee or tea…”

“Tea is fine,” Meg sighed. “Thanks.”

The guy beckoned her to follow him into the kitchen, which was just as orderly and cozy as the living room. Meg sat and placed the urn on the table next to her. If the man found that behavior strange, he didn’t comment on it. He put a kettle on the stove and started searching for something in the cupboards.

“Where are you going?” he asked. “Maybe I can point you in the right direction.”

“I’m looking for Heaven,” Meg said. Then she realized that sounded a little ominous coming from a stranger carrying a dead man’s ashes, so she added hurriedly: “The farmhouse, not the religious construct.”

“Oh,” the man’s eyes went from her face to the urn and then back to her face. “You’re Meg. Tom’s sister.”

Meg didn’t know how to react. On one hand, it was a relief to know she was somewhere around the right place. On the other, she really didn’t want to talk about her brother with a virtual stranger.

The kettle whistled and he turned around to pour the water.

“I’m Castiel, by the way,” he said, while he stirred up the cups. “Your brother was a good friend. He used to talk about you all the time.”

“Well, he never mentioned you,” Meg replied, brusquely.

Castiel wasn’t put off by her rudeness. He handed her the cup with a kind smile and sat in front of her.

“I was very sorry to hear about his passing.”

“I don’t remember seeing you at the funeral,” Meg said.

“I was out of town,” he said, shrugging apologetically. “Try the tea. It’s my own recipe.”

Meg wondered why he was so proud of that, but when she took a sip, the most delicious taste exploded in her mouth. It was the right side of sweet, but the flavor was still stingy enough to give it some kick. Meg gulp it like it was some kind of sacred elixir she couldn’t get enough of. The warmth in her mouth travelled to her stomach and extended to every one of her limbs. It was like a weigh had been lifted off her shoulders, and the stress and sorrow she had been fighting off for the last few weeks suddenly seemed like a memory from long ago.

“This is…” she muttered. “Oh, my God, this is magical.”

“Honey and mint,” Castiel explained, with a smug smile. “Not many people think the combination works, but I find it rather soothing. The mint is from my own garden, and I collected the honey myself. I’m a beekeeper.”

“Well, these must be some very happy bees.”

It was a stupid thing to say, but Castiel chuckled as if he found it amusing all the same.

“Your brother used to drop by and have a cup with me now and then,” Castiel told her. “He always said this tea would go great with your grandmother’s sweetbread.”

“No way,” Meg said, opening her eyes wide. “I was just thinking that! If I had a slice of Nana’s sweetbread…”

“Unfortunately, he didn’t have much faith in his own culinary abilities,” Castiel said.

“Of course not,” Meg shook her head. “Did he ever tell you about the time in college he tried to make spaghetti and accidentally set fire to his dorm wing?”

That earned him another laugh from Castiel, this one rough like his voice and lively like his eyes. Meg had suddenly forgotten why she was mad at him in the first place.

The doorbell rang, interrupting the moment.

“That must be Kim,” Castiel said standing up.

The woman in the plaid shirt standing on the porch stared at Meg with an arched eyebrow, probably trying to determine if she was any danger to her brother-in-law, until Castiel explained who she was.

“Oh,” Kim said, her expression softening. “My condolences. Tom was always kind to our daughter. He let her steal fruit from his trees.”

Meg remembered her brother as a grumpy and sometimes obnoxious person who occasionally enjoyed watching other’s suffer. She was having trouble combining that image with the tea-drinker, nice-to-kids-who-trespassed-his-property guy these people insisted he was.

Kim had already taken the liberty to find Meg’s car, which was now hooked to her tow. She wrote down Meg’s number and let her take her back from the trunk.

“You sure you don’t want me to take you somewhere?” the mechanic asked.

“I haven’t finished drinking my tea,” Meg excused herself. That wasn’t entirely the reason. She just wanted to spend another while in Castiel’s company.

“I can take her to Heaven later,” Castiel offered. “Or call her a cab.”

“That would be great,” Meg smiled at him. “Thank you.”

Kim looked at them both, and then shrugged. “Okay. Just make sure you do that before the storm.”

“What storm?” Meg asked after Kim had left and Castiel closed the door behind her.

“I don’t know,” Castiel admitted. “Kim is always predicting storms.”

He hadn’t even finished speaking when a lightning flashed on the living room and the lights went out as a thunder rumbled on their ears.

“Well…” Meg said, as the heavy water started pouring from the sky. “I guess we’re stuck.”

“I guess we are,” Castiel agreed. “Another cup of tea?”

Meg looked up at him with a smile.

“That’d be lovely, thanks.”


	2. Family

Meg woke up with a jolt. The sun was up in the sky and she had a moment of panic thinking she was going to be late and there was a lot of work to do at the office and…

It was only after she had jumped out of bed when she realized she wasn’t in her apartment. Instead, she was standing on a fluffy carpet and surrounded by a wallpaper depicting plants and bees. Outside the window, the garden glimmered with a bright green, product of the storm that hadn’t stopped until a few hours back. The bees were buzzing as they happily resumed their work.

It all came back to Meg watching that. Castiel, the kind beekeeper, had insisted until she’d accepted to take the bed while he crashed on the couch. A soft smile appeared on her lips. The guy was definitely too nice for his own good.

After she’d got dressed and brushed her teeth, she tiptoed downstairs, half-hoping Castiel was still asleep. She hated saying goodbye, it always a little too awkward for her taste.

She was out of luck. Castiel was standing barefoot and shirtless in the kitchen, pouring the steaming water on the cups just like the day before. Meg didn’t mean to stare, but she stopped dead on the kitchen’s doorway all the same. The muscles of hid body flexed every time he moved his arms, and Meg couldn’t help but to notice the jeans he was wearing cupped his ass in the most delightful way. He had a special way of making tea, slowly and deliberately, moving both spoons counterclockwise. His concentrated frown was almost hilarious, like he needed every ounce of his attention to make sure the tea was stirred just right because it was the most important job in the whole wide world. Meg wondered what it’d feel like to be gazed at and touched with such intensity.

Aaaand… she was just turned on by a guy making tea. Oh, God, how long had it been since she last got laid?

Castiel turned around and carefully placed a cup of tea in front of Tom’s urn.

“Don’t worry,” he muttered. “I’ll help her all I can.”

Meg instinctively knew he was talking about her, and decided it was time to stop abusing Castiel’s hospitality. She sauntered in with a forced yawn, pretending not to have been there for the last five minutes.

“Good morning,” Castiel greeted her.

“Hi,” Meg said, grabbing the urn and purposefully ignoring the cup of tea. “I’m just on my way out. Sorry to have been such a burden last night.”

“You weren’t at all,” Castiel assured her. “Wouldn’t you like some breakfast?”

“Actually, no,” Meg shook her head. “Thanks, but it’s really getting late and I have to get to Heaven.”

“Okay,” Castiel said. “I’ll take you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Meg insisted, gripping Tom’s ashes closer to her chest. “I can get there on my own.”

“I have no doubt you can,” he replied. “As soon as you get your car back, that is.”

Meg bit her lips, humiliated. She’d been so focused on making her exit that she had completely forgotten about that little detail. She checked her phone to find an hour old message from Kim saying her car was ready.

“I’ll give you a ride to her workshop,” Castiel said, correctly guessing what Meg was worried about now. “Just let me put on a shirt.”

Castiel not only gave her a ride to Kim’s shop. He also insisted she took a thermos with his famous tea, plus some crackers and jam because “you can’t just drive that long without breakfast” and even a map with the road she had to follow mark in red.

“Just keep driving east and you can’t get lost,” he told her, leaning through the driver’s window.

“Thanks,” Meg replied, flabbergasted at such excessive politeness.

“Call me if you need help with anything.”

“I’ll be fine,” Meg guaranteed him. She really needed to escape those blue eyes before she did something she regretted. Like asking for his number or something.

Almost an hour later, after missing it three times, Meg finally found the entrance to the house. Her car rattled down the path until she finally reached a gate with a wooden sign that announced the two-story house behind it was “Heaven.” A short blonde woman wearing a tailored suit waited for her next to it.

“Hi, I’m Ruby,” she greeted her. “You must be Miss Masters.”

“Just Meg is fine,” Meg said, shaking the real estate agent’s perfectly manicured hand. “Sorry I couldn’t make it yesterday.”

“That’s alright. I figured the storm must have stranded you somewhere,” Ruby said, handing her a set of keys. “Let’s go in.”

For the next forty-five minutes, Ruby babbled on and on about how many hectares the house had, how many trees Tom had planted per square mile and how much money they gave. Meg was surprised to find Tom had made a modest amount, although most of it was destined to either pay for Lilith’s alimony or to the maintenance of the house.

The reason was obvious: despite the many renovations, the place was old. The living room was roomy, with a picture window that occupied an entire wall to illuminate it. Compared with Castiel’s place, which was almost crowded with all the plants and pictures, this place looked empty and the white walls made it seem a bit sterile. The staircase was made of mahogany and the steps to the second floor creaked under Meg’s weight.

“It’s a little bit too big for a single person,” Ruby said, pointing at the row of doors on the hallway. “I suggested Tom many times that he rented some of these rooms to make some extra profit, but he wouldn’t hear about it. He was a very private when it came to some things.”

“That he was,” Meg sighed.

Ruby started explaining something about the heating, but Meg was no longer paying attention. She was standing on the top of the staircase, watching outside the window to the miles and miles of green outside. Tom had planted oranges and lemons trees that stretched high up under the bright Californian sun. There was a light breeze running through the branches, and Meg closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the peaceful silence. And for a moment, she understood why Tom had escaped the city lights to live there like a hermit.

“Are you still set on selling it?” Ruby’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Yes,” Meg answered, dryly. Ruby nodded, comprehensively.

“You can get some good money from it,” she said. “Much more than what Tom paid when he first bought it.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes,” Ruby looked around, almost fondly. “We’d had this ruin on the selling ads for years before Tom became interested. He did some wonderful restoration work, and he got the land to start producing again. It’s really a shame it’ll go to be owned by someone else.”

“I don’t know the first thing about farming,” Meg said, with an apologetic shrug.

“Neither did Mr. Masters when he first arrived,” a third voice intervened. There was a large black woman standing at the end of the hall.

“Meg, this is Missouri Moseley,” Ruby introduced her. “She’s the…”

“If you say housekeeper, Ruby Cassidy, I’ll smack you,” Missouri groaned. Ruby raised her hands defensively as Missouri’s expression softened and she offered her hand to Meg. “Hi, it’s so great to finally meet you. Tom talked a lot about you. Old Bobby Singer and I keep this place running. Well, it’s just me these days, since Bobby spends most nights at Sheriff Mill’s house…”

“Missouri!” Ruby giggled, like a high school girl who’d just been told a piece of juicy gossip.

“What? It’s not like it’s the town’s best kept secret,” Missouri said, shrugging. “In any case, I’ll be helping you put Mr. M’s things in order.”

“Thank you,” Meg sighed. She’d feared she’ll have to take care of all that herself.

“So,” Missouri said. “Is he here?”

The wording freaked her out a little, but she knew exactly what she meant. Once Ruby had left, Missouri walked Meg to the car and nodded approvingly when Meg took the urn from the passenger’s seat.

“Let’s go to the back,” Missouri instructed her. “There’s a small place between the trees where he liked to sit.”

Meg had a lump in her throat and she struggled with the urn’s lid for several minutes before she could take it off. Missouri didn’t try to help her. She obviously understood it was something Meg had to do on her own. Finally, Meg took a handful of her brother’s ashes and opened her palm. The breeze did the rest.

She repeated the same gesture a couple of times, until the urn was empty and her cheeks were wet with tears. Missouri offered her a handkerchief.

“Thank you,” Meg said, blowing her nose. “I know Tom hated sentimentalism.”

Missouri looked at her like she had no idea what Meg was talking about, but in the end she shrugged.

“I guess people change a lot when we’re not looking.”

Meg grimaced at the idea. “Did you know?” she asked. “That he was sick, I mean.”

“Yes,” Missouri nodded. “But not because he told me. You just can’t help but to notice some things when you see people every day.”

Meg grimaced at that too. She had the impression Missouri was subtly taking a dig at her for not visiting Tom there, even though he had invited her multiple times.

“He didn’t tell me either,” she answered. “Hell, he didn’t even change his emergency contact. I had to find out he’d died through his ex wife.”

“The blonde gold digging bitch?”

“Lilith’s not that bad,” Meg protested. Not because she had a high opinion of Lilith, but because for some reason, whether it was the recent loss of a loved one or because Castiel’s politeness still lingered in the back of her head, she felt magnanimous.

“Alright,” Missouri shrugged. “By the way, what do you want to do with that?”

Meg looked up to find an enormous beehive hanging from one of the branches.

 

* * *

 

Meg sat on the porch to watch the sun set over the trees. The citric smell in the air and the soft buzzing of the bees had an almost sedative effect on her aching head. Among the trees, she could see Castiel’s figure moving in his white suit, like a sort of strange spaceman. A spaceman of the bees. Even from that distance, she could hear his soft humming as he moved the hive from the tree to the back of his truck. When he finished, he took off his helmet and shook his sweaty hair before making his way back where Meg was.

“Thanks, Meg,” he told her. “Most people would’ve just smoked them out.”

“Well, I thought about it,” Meg confessed. “But I figured the bees would be happier in your farm.”

That was only half the truth. The other half was that Meg couldn’t pass up on such a perfect excuse to see Castiel again. She couldn’t explain why was that such a big deal for her. Maybe because the man had been so nice to her without expecting anything in return. She wasn’t used to that. She worked at a law firm.

“That thing looks suffocating,” Meg added, standing up. “You want something to drink? I’ve got… water,” she said. Missouri wasn’t back with the groceries yet.

“Maybe we can have some lemonade or orange juice,” Castiel suggested. Meg was about to ask him where was she supposed to get that when she remembered she was the proud owner of a several hectares of citric trees.

“Oh, you think you’re so smart, don’t you?” she said, while Castiel chuckled quietly. “You think you’re so clever and cute…”

“Water will do,” Castiel replied. “Can you unzip me?”

Once the suit was on the trunk along with the bees, Castiel followed her into the kitchen. Meg had to check several cabinets before finding a couple of glasses. Having lived in a small apartment for the last three years, she wasn’t used to all that space and the things it could contain.

“So Ruby tells me you’re selling the place,” Castiel commented.

Meg thought about asking if she was his girlfriend or if the news always travelled that fast in the town, but in that was none of her business.

“Yeah, I just can’t move here,” Meg answered. “I mean, it’s pretty and everything, but my whole life’s in the city.”

“Plus, your boyfriend must miss you,” Castiel commented.

“What boyfriend?” Meg asked, disconcerted. Then it hit her. “Oh, _him_. Nah, I made him up in case you were some sort of dangerous criminal.”

“Oh. Okay,” Castiel said. He took a gulp of his water, pensively. “That’s fair, I guess.”

“If it makes you feel better, I don’t think you are,” Meg added. “A dangerous criminal, I mean.”

“My sister would tell you I’m the most badass guy around,” Castiel said, rolling his eyes. “Then again, she’s always looked up to me, so I’ve got to live up to her expectations.”

“I was the same with Tom,” Meg laughed. “We used to go out to raise all sorts of hell when we were younger.”

Her voice trailed off. It was a little too harsh to remember the good old days, but Castiel understood.

“You miss him,” he commented.

“I don’t even know why,” Meg said, shaking her head. “We lost touch when he moved here; we were both always so busy…”

“He was your family,” Castiel cut her off.

Meg supposed Tom had told him that after their father’s death, they were the only ones left. And now it was just her. It was depressing.

“I can’t imagine how hard it must be,” Castiel continued, like he had read her mind. “Besides Hannah, I have dozens of cousin and we’re all very close. I’ve always wanted to have a big family myself.” He took another sip and looked around. “This place would be perfect to raise a bunch of children, actually.”

“I’m sure your future wife would agree,” Meg poked him.

“I hope she agrees with me asking you out,” Castiel said.

That had been super smooth; Meg had to give him that. Too bad she couldn’t accept.

“You do realize I’m leaving after I’m done with Tom’s business?” she said.

“I know,” Castiel replied, but he didn’t back off from his invitation.

“And that any sort of relationship between us would be virtually impossible?” she added.

“If you say so,” Castiel replied, undeterred.

Meg took her time to finish her water before shooting the next obvious question:

“So what exactly do you expect to get from this?”

“Absolutely nothing,” he declared. “Except spending a little more time with you.”

Meg stared at him, stunned. How’d come this man wasn’t married yet? She was pretty sure if he saw a woman he liked on the street, he would simply offer her a ring and she’d say yes because it was really hard to refuse those blue eyes.

“Unless, of course, that’ll piss off your imaginary boyfriend,” Castiel added, with a shy smile.

“Fuck him," Meg decided. "We just broke up."


	3. Closer to Heaven

Meg had to postpone her date with Cas a couple of times. The activity in the house got rather frantic, as Missouri and Bobby Singer kept asking her what she wanted to do with one thing or the other. Following Ruby’s advice, Meg decided all the furniture could stay for the future owner, as well as most of the electronics, the curtains, the carpet and the bed linen. The clothes would be donated to charity, save for a couple of oversized sweaters Meg was just too sentimental to get rid off. And of course, she’d keep all of Tom’s books, his albums, pictures a bunch of little trinkets she found in his bedroom.

“I can’t believe he kept all this stuff,” she told Cas. She was sitting on the carpet, surrounded by the contents of a bunch of boxes she had found on the basement. “This knife was Uncle Alistair’s.”

She had acquired the habit of talking to him on the phone as she moved around the house, packing and classifying Tom’s belongings. Cas listened patiently, and sometimes Meg could hear the snapping of pruning shears or the buzzing of bees in the background. This time, his voice came accompanied by the clatter of porcelain.

“Your family seems to have a certain propensity to collect weapons,” he said.

“You sound like you disapprove,” Meg commented, running her thumb along the knife. It was still sharp and shiny.

“Not at all,” Castiel replied. “Everyone needs a hobby.”

“Even if the hobby is throwing daggers at the wall?” Meg asked, amused.

The teapot whistled on the other end and Meg could picture Castiel running towards it. It made her smile, for some reason.

“You can throw daggers?” he asked. He sounded impress.

“Uncle Alistair taught us,” Meg explained. “He said we needed to improve our aiming before we graduated to firearms. In the end, that turned out to be more useful than Nana teaching us how to cook.”

“How come?”

“Well, tough times came along,” Meg shrugged, even though Castiel obviously couldn’t see her. “And us being able to beat every guy in a motorcycle gang at a game of darts was what kept us fed sometimes.”

Castiel didn’t answer, and Meg realized she might have sounded too casual about it.

“Laugh,” she encouraged him. “It’s meant to be funny.”

Still there was no answer. Meg heard the scrapping of the chair across the floor and Castiel’s gulping before he spoke again:

“You’re a most interesting woman, Meg.”

“I’m sure you’ll change your mind once you actually get to know me,” Meg replied.

“I doubt that,” Castiel said.

He suppressed a yawn and Meg glanced at the clock and was shocked to find it was almost midnight. Missouri had gone home hours ago, and Meg had gone to explore the basement because she couldn’t sleep. She’d called Castiel without realizing what time it was because she hated being alone in the deep silence of that exaggeratedly large house.

“I’m sorry,” Meg said. “I’m keeping you awake.”

“Yes, you are,” Castiel admitted. “But I don’t mind at all.”

“No, no, you should go to bed,” she insisted. “The bees are going to be all mad if you don’t go tend to them in the morning.”

“They’ll survive,” Castiel assured her. There was a short pause and then he asked: “So tomorrow night’s still standing or is that is also not great to you?”

Meg winced, while guilt kicked her in the gut. She had canceled so many times already it was a wonder that Castiel hadn’t withdrawn his invitation yet.

“Please, don’t think I’m avoiding you,” she said. “I do want to have this date, Cas.”

“It’s fine,” he answered. “I understand you’re very busy, and maybe my timing was not the greatest.  But I was really hoping to see you.”

Meg didn’t think she was ever getting used to how direct things were with Cas. With most guys, it’d be constantly dithering around the topic, semi-veiled flirting and playing hard to get. But maybe because it was a strange time in her life and because they had already establish there was nothing coming out of this, they could openly express how much they wanted to see each other and talk for hours about the most irrelevant issues.

“You know, I’m almost done here,” she said. “Missouri can help me finish with the basement tomorrow morning, and… yeah, I’ll have the evening free.”

There was a pause, like Castiel was taking a few moments to register what Meg was saying.

“So it’s… it’s actually happening, then.”

He sounded like a child who had just been told he was going to be given a puppy. Meg shook her head, amused.

“It’s happening,” she confirmed. “But you gotta get me home early.”

“Because your non-existent boyfriend will get upset?”

Meg laughed. Their made-up significant others had become a bit of a running joke between them.

“No, but your hypothetical wife might,” she shot back. “And also… because I have to leave early.”

“Oh,” Castiel remembered. “Yes, I understand that.”

They went quiet again. Meg toyed with Uncle Alistair’s knife. She wanted to thank him for keeping her company those days, for putting up with her out of the blue calls, for not expecting anything in return. But those words might have sounded too final, so she decided to save them up for the following night.

“Good night, Cas.”

“Sleep well.”

Meg put the phone down and stared outside the picture window. The branches were swaying under the light breeze, and there were crickets singing among the grass. It was almost mind-numbingly peaceful. Meg leaned her forehead against the cool glass and sighed. Tom had picked an astonishingly accurate name for that place.

 

* * *

 

Castiel picked her up at exactly seven. He had ditched the sweater and instead was just wearing jeans and a white shirt.

“You look great,” he told her while she got on the passenger’s seat.

“What? These old rags?” she joked.

She had actually gone through all the clothes she bought with a rush of panic in her veins. She’d wanted to look good, but not _too good_ , but standing in the room in her underwear, she had realized she didn’t have anything appropriate for that sort of casual dating. So she’d just put on her violet blouse and her black leather jacket and hoped it’d be okay.

By the way Castiel grinned, she figured she must have succeeded.

“So where exactly are you taking me?” Meg asked as he started the car.

“It’s a surprise.”

“Come on, tell me,” she insisted, punching him in the bicep playfully.

“The point of surprises is that they’re unexpected and pleasant,” Castiel pointed out. “If I tell you, it won’t be unexpected.”

He was always so correct. Having dating all sort of petty criminals in her younger years, Meg never figured she’d like that.

“Give me clue, at least.”

“Alright,” Castiel sighed. “I’m taking you closer to Heaven.”

Meg crooked an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound sinister at all.”

“Says the woman who showed up at my door at dusk with an urn.”

“Touché,” Meg chuckled.

Twenty minutes later, Castiel took a detour away from the town and down a dirt road. Meg was going to make another comment about how spooky that was when they parked in front a black iron gate that announced it was the entry to “Funland.” Beyond the gate, a rollercoaster and a Ferris wheel were silhouetted against the nightsky.

“The park is closed at this time of the year,” Castiel explained. “But I called in a favor from some friends.”

“You couldn’t just take me to dinner, could you?”

Castiel’s face went from smiling and kind to worried and frowning in less than a second. “If you would prefer that…”

“I’m kidding, Cas,” Meg clarified. “This looks fun. Let’s do it.”

Castiel was out of the car and opening her door in a flash. There were two tall men waiting at the gate, both wearing plaid shirts, who came closer to give Cas a hug.

“These are Sam and Dean Winchester,” Castiel introduced them. “The park is theirs.”

“Sort of a family business thing,” Sam, the taller one, explained.

“Thank you for opening it for us,” Meg commented.

“Hey, anything to get Cas lai… auch!” Dean screamed. Meg suspected Castiel had kicked him in the shin, but it all happened to fast for her to be sure. Dean straightened his back and cleared his throat: “I mean, anything for Cas.”

“Come on in,” Sam said, pushing the gates open. “We’ll be getting some of the attractions ready for you.”

The empty and in some parts dimly lit place should have been creepy and unnatural, but Meg found it strangely endearing. It was as quiet and peaceful as the farmhouse, like a friendly giant asleep. Meg found herself thinking a park like that could never exist in the city, not without a noisy crowd of crying kids and screaming parents. Hardly a romantic setting to let your date grab your hand and walk with you among the games.

“There’s a Shooting Gallery, if you’d like to try that,” Castiel commented.

“Aren’t those things rigged?”

“Generally, yes,” he admitted. “But Sam and Dean will probably resent that implication.”

Meg would’ve much preferred to stay where they were, walking slowly hand in hand, with the gravel crunching under their feet. But Castiel was probably trying to gain some time, so they went to that tent. Dean was behind the counter, advertising the game to the invisible park goers.

“Come on, try your aim!” he yelled. “Wouldn’t you like to win a prize for the lady?”

“Dean, you know I’m not a good shot,” Castiel replied. Both Dean and Meg laughed at him, and then laughed even harder when he seemed confused.

Meg grabbed the old fashioned Colt gun and took a couple of seconds to familiarize with the weigh before pulling the trigger six times in rapid succession. Five of the six cardboard ducks line-up behind Dean went down in the blink of an eye. Meg clicked her tongue, annoyed.

“Rigged,” she declared. She knew she had aimed perfectly. Castiel chuckled while Dean smiled guiltly.

“In any case, it's a new record," he commented. “I guess you get to choose a present.”

Meg looked around the toys and dolls in display, and knew exactly what she wanted.

 

* * *

 

“Come on, I want you to have it,” Meg insisted.

“This is a very nice gesture, Meg, but I really can’t take it,” Castiel said, shaking his head. “You won that.”

“What are you two on about?” Sam asked when they joined him near the Ferris wheel.

“Castiel won’t accept it,” Meg said, rising the bumblebee plush she had chosen as prize. It had a ridiculously small pair of wings and a couple of big black button eyes. Sam covered his mouth with a hand to suffocate a laugh.

“You can’t say she doesn’t know you,” he told Cas, amused. “Anyway, this thing’s ready.”

“Wait, what?” Meg asked, but Sam was already pushing them towards one of the chairs.

“Sit tight, keep your hands inside,” he instructed, pulling the bar down. “Don’t shake the seat.”

“Is this safe?” Meg asked. “I mean, with just the two of us, wouldn’t that cause a weight problem or something?”

“It’s safe,” Sam assured her. “Well, mostly.”

Before Meg could say if he was joking or not, he turned around and screamed something at Dean. The wheel started turning at a steady but unnerving slow pace, and Meg felt a twist in her stomach when their feet left the ground. Castiel was smiling until he noticed the paleness in her face.

“Are you okay?” he asked. Meg was reminding herself to breathe, so she couldn’t answer. “Meg? Are you afraid of heights?”

“No,” she lied. “They just make me a little nervous, that’s all.”

Castiel chuckled, and a moment later, his fingers intertwined tightly with hers.

“Me too,” he confessed.

Meg wanted to shout at him why the hell he thought that was a good idea but he was looking ahead with a smirk on his lips, so she did the same.

The town with their several little lights appeared behind the park, as small and faraway as a mock city. There were tiny cars running on the streets. If she looked a little further, she could see the farmhouse’s roof and all the trees her brother had planted. It was so overwhelming Meg forgot she was supposed to be terrified.

The wheel came to a halt, and Meg shivered, so Castiel moved closer to her (the seat shook a little and the stupid bumblebee, forgotten in the space between them, was at risk of plummeting to its death) and put and arm around her shoulders.

“Look up,” he whispered. Meg obeyed.

There were countless stars shining above them. Meg was used to staring down at the city lights’ from her window, so for a moment it was like somebody had turned the world upside down while tuning out all the irritating cacophony that ruled her life. The moon hanged full to their right, so big and close for a moment it occurred to her she could just stretch her hand to put in her pocket.

“No way,” she muttered.

“What?” Castiel asked.

Meg looked down at him. His eyes were brighter than any star.

“You really did take me closer to Heaven.”

She reached for the lapels of his shirt, and pulled him towards her to kiss him.


	4. Home

The phone was finally quiet.

Upon arriving to the office, Meg had taken one look at the disaster that her desk had become in her absence, and decided she was never taking a day off ever again. The weeks that followed her return from Heaven had been an absolute nightmare. If she thought she was being exploited before, now they were downright abusing her. On top of it all, Cecily had decided Meg’s return was a perfect excuse to elope with her boyfriend, so Meg had been alone against all of the law firm’s menial work once more.

It was Friday afternoon, and she had been juggling with the four lines of the firm all day long. Now, finally, she’d got a moment of silence, so she sank her head in her arms and sighed deeply. As it usually happened these days whenever she closed her eyes, she was immediately transported back to the last night she’d spent in Heaven.

If she focused enough, she could still conjure up the roughness of Cas’ stubble under her fingertips, the warmth of his mouth over her lips. It had been no surprise to discover he tasted like honey.

After coming down from the Ferris wheel and enduring the Winchesters relentless mocking, Castiel had drove Meg back. They’d been silent in the car, because they’d had no idea what to say or do. Meg had been staring outside the window, fidgeting with the wings of the bumblebee plush. She’d really, _really_ wanted to ask Castiel to spend the night, but that would somehow cheapen the moment. And also, she’d had the feeling Castiel was the kind of guy who stuck for breakfast and waking up next to him would forever weaken her resolve to leave.

Now, in the face of the nightmarish days she’d been having, she started wondering if that was such a bad thing.

Castiel had stopped the car right in front the gates of the farmhouse.

“Well…” he’d started.

“Thank you, Cas,” Meg had cut him off right there. “For tonight. And for talking to me. And for the tea.”

Castiel’s smile had been shy, and Meg couldn’t be sure in the darkness, but she’d been pretty sure he had just blushed.

“You’re very welcome,” he’d said. “And thanks to you, for accepting my company.”

It’d sounded a bit final. Meg had hesitated on the edge of kissing him again, but in the end she’d just reached for the door handle.

“Hey,” Castiel had called her again before she’d crossed the gate. “If you come back…”

“I don’t think I will,” Meg had begun. “Ruby will handle the selling and…”

“If you come back, call me,” he’d interrupted her. “We can have another cup of tea together.”

Meg had smiled back. “I’d like that.”

It had been a lie, of course. Not that she wouldn’t have another cup of Castiel’s epic tea, but the part about it ever happening. Because maybe she’d been just mesmerized by the beauty of the town and the farmhouse at her feet, not that she’d considered for a moment how peaceful it’d be to live there. And maybe the butterflies she’d felt atop the Ferris wheel had been product of hanging so high up in the air and had nothing to do with the way Castiel had run his fingers through her hair. And maybe it had been so great because it was a unique thing with no expectations of a follow-up.

And maybe Meg really needed to stop daydreaming about the scent of Heaven’s orange blossoms floating in through the window and the blue of Castiel’s eyes when she had work to do.

The phone rang, startling her. Meg looked around at the four receivers on her desk trying to determine which one had so rudely interrupted her, before realizing it was the one inside her pocket.

“Hello?”

“Meg, I have great news,” Ruby announced, cheerfully.

The door in front of Meg opened and Benny walked in carrying a pile of files almost as tall him.

“Boss wants to classify these,” he told Meg.

“Hey… Meg,” Michael Milton popped his head out of the door of his office. “You’re Meg, right? If you’re not too busy, can you bring me…?”

Meg never found out what Michael needed, because a car crashed right outside the building and the din that ensued drowned his voice. At least some people ran out of the office, leaving Meg with enough silence to finish listening to Ruby.

“… and it’s the best offer we could hope for,” she was saying. “So? What do we tell them?”

“I’m sorry, you say they’re demolishing the house and cutting down the trees?”

Ruby began explaining that it was the only way, that the company planned to make bigger installations, and Meg basically hanged up on her, grabbed the bumblebee plush and bolted outside the office.

“Hey, sugar!” Benny called after her when she reached the elevator door. “Where’s the fire?”

“Benny, can you be a dear and pass the bosses a message?” she asked. “Tell them I’m going home.”

“Sure,” Benny said, although he was looking at her with a confused frown. “But it’s still a bit early for that. Aren’t you afraid they’ll fire you?”

“Well,” Meg said as the doors closed in front of her. “Tell them I quit.”

 

* * *

 

Castiel was sitting in his kitchen, waiting for the water to boil. He massaged his neck, which was aching after a long day of weeding out his garden. Normally, at that hour of the day he felt happily tired, but these days he was just tired and lonely. He had stared to consider accepting Hannah’s offer to hook him up with Kim’s cousin, April, but he knew all too well he wouldn’t be interested in her unless she had chocolate eyes and all sort of interesting stories about her past…

The doorbell rang.

Castiel stretched his arms and went to open, thinking there would be another broken car on the road… and suddenly it occurred to him that his fantasies had completely gone out of control.

Meg was standing in his porch, like a déjà vu come to life. Except she didn’t have an urn in her hands this time: instead, she was carrying a small basket covered by a cloth.

“Hey,” she greeted him. “How are you, Cas?”

He was too stunned to answer her, so she removed the cloth to reveal what was in the basket.

“I made some of Nana’s sweetbread,” she explained. “Thought it’d go great with a cup of honey and mint.”

Castiel finally collected himself enough to muster a reply: “Of course. I just put the kettle on.”

With a playful smirk on her lips, Meg sauntered inside.


End file.
